Welcome!

In the excitement of the next How to Train Your Dragon movie coming out in 2019, I decided to write this story. This is my first fanfic so I welcome all the tips, constructive-criticism, and reviews you have. More support means more encouragement to write. I will be responding to all questions and comments left in the reviews so don't be shy.

This story is also posted on AO3 if anyone prefers that site. You can find it under the same name 'A World on Fire' and my pen name 'SpiritofFireHS' is the same for that site as well.

This is just a short Prologue (Fearless Finn Hofferson) to the story and mostly just a way to bring a character into the story that wouldn't have been there in canon. Since Chapter 1 (Underdogs and Outsiders) is out, I suggest newcomers read it in addition to the Prologue. It is longer than the prologue and has a slightly different writing style that removes excess fluff and includes more dialogue; it is possible that the fluff in the Prologue can make it difficult to follow for some. This will help to give a feeling for what the story and writing style will be like before any decisions/commitments are made.

There's just one last thing to remember. Although the Prologue does not demonstrate it (due to the time period it takes place in), this is first and foremost a Hiccstrid. This is a longer story so I intend to do a good amount of long-term character development, especially with the Hiccstrid aspect. I can promise that some will start showing up by Chapter 2 (The Fire-Breathing Damsel and the Dragon in Distress).

Please remember to review! Enjoy and happy reading!

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the How to Train Your Dragon franchise, including the characters, settings, plots, themes, etc. from said franchise. I do, however, own this story and the unique characters, settings, plots, themes, etc. contained in this story that do not appear in the franchise as of the date of this publishing, unless otherwise indicated.

Prologue

Fearless Finn Hofferson

Fourteen years before the Red Death incident…

» Fearless Finn Hofferson «

Fearless Finn Hofferson stared into the dark horizon, his eyes scanning for the slightest hint of a threat. The man's stood with an unbreakable confidence and the ferocity of his presence made lesser men shrink in awe. Rain beat down on his figure, but he remained focused as he attended to his guard post.

It was twelve days north of Hopeless and a few degrees south of Freezing to Death. It was located solidly on the Meridian of Misery. A small Viking village rested on the Isle of Berk, surviving centuries of a bloody war; the only thing more stubborn than the village itself were the people who inhabited it. Only the dim flicker of the torches adorning the town's Great Hall and the moon's soft glaze illuminated the settlement. Finn turned to survey the many structures scattering the hillside, lingering on one in particular.

If one were to ask any Viking in the village, he or she would tell you that Fearless Finn was the bravest man this side of the archipelago; as his name would suggest, he was fearless, afraid of nothing. This was true, or at least it had been until earlier that year. Ten months ago, his brother and sister-in-law had given birth to a beautiful wee lass whom he cherished as if she were his own. Fear for her safety quickly manifested itself in his thoughts. It was no secret that Berk was anything but a haven for children with its devastating winters, dragon raids, and skirmishes with hostile tribes. Taking his gaze off of House Hofferson, Finn returned to scanning the skies, silently promising that no one, dragon or man, would hurt a hair on his little niece's head as long as he drew breath.

As the seconds turned to hours and the storm had long passed, any weariness in Finn was replaced by sheer power of will. Then it came, the shrill whine, the deadly whistle, and the signature announcement of a singular being.

"Night Fury!" A voice from a distant watch tower cried out.

"Get down!" Replied another.

The unholy offspring of lightning and death itself, the Night Fury, a dragon that no living man had ever seen. The only chance of survival was to hide and pray it didn't find you. But Fearless Finn Hofferson did not hide. In an instant, the large man was racing to sound the raid alarm.

As the deep horn filled the night, most of the town was already garbed in their assortment of armors, the sound of the Night Fury's arrival being more than enough to stir them from their slumber. Torches came to life, lighting the landscape, as Vikings scurried through the streets and took up arms to defend the village. The young and elderly were rushed to the Great Hall to take haven during the assault. Finn scoured the crowds, catching a glimpse of his own brother and Spitelout Jorgenson, the Chief's brother-in-law and well-respected general, making their way towards him. He continued to search until he spotted his sister-in-law running towards the Great Hall, a battle axe in one hand and her babe in the other.

Finn turned back towards the ocean and in the direction of the Night Fury's whistle. "Here I am ungodly beast, Fearless Finn Hofferson! Come and get me, if you dare!"

Then, there came another terrifying whine and a blue orb of plasma appeared in the sky. Finn looked for cover, but…wait. The Night Fury's attack wasn't going to strike anywhere near him; in fact, it was going to miss the entirety of Berk itself. An inexperienced warrior may have written it off as a mistake or bad aim, but Finn knew better. The Night Fury never missed. The shot streaked past a distant sea stack, providing just enough light for Finn to see the doomed target. Ships? Ships! Four to be exact. Where had the ships come from? Surely, they weren't Berkian as the home fleet was safely docked at the harbor.

At that moment, all Hel broke loose as the Night Fury's attack collided with the deck of the closest ship. An explosion of flames engulfed the vessel from stem to stern and the ship and its crew sank into the unforgiving ocean. A cloud of smoke rose from the site, it's likeness similar to that of a mushroom. Light from the raging fire swept over the remaining members of the flotilla allowing Finn to make out the image of a Skrill decorating their sails. The Skrill was a distant cousin of the Night Fury and rivaled the Fury's explosive blue blasts with deadly bolts of lightning. More importantly, it was the symbol of the warlike Berserker tribe, a group known to be quick to violence and slow to forgiveness. Ever since Oswald the Agreeable had become the Chief of the Berserkers there had been peace between the two tribes. Did Oswald mean to break the treaty and attack the Hooligans after they were left weakened from a dragon raid?

A hand fell on his shoulder. "Finn," Spitelout's uniquely high-pitched voice came from behind, "What's going on, laddie?" Spitelout looked to where Finn's eyes were focused.

"Berserker ships. Three sailing. One sunk. They move in from the Straits." Finn responded to the query, straight and to the point. "Night Fury's the only dragon so far."

Spitelout was furious. "Odin's beard! The Berserkers mean to attack during a dragon raid? Those sons of maggots, not a spot of honor in their bones. We must ready the catapults to repel this Berserker swine."

"Wait," the steady voice of Finn's brother entering the conversation, "This is not a Berserker attack." The younger Hofferson's calm and calculated demeanor was rare amongst the anger-prone and quick to action Vikings. This earned him and many Hoffersons before him the position of Chief Strategist among the tribe's council.

"Not an attack? Of course, it's an attack. Why else would a fleet of those maniacs be making their way to Berk in the dead of night. Have you lost it, Gunnar?" Spitelout looked at the man with narrowed eyes.

"Four ships are nowhere near enough to challenge Berk, even if we are caught after a dragon raid." Gunnar Hofferson looked closer at the lead ship. "There! See? That one flies the white flag." As he spoke a dragon shaped fireball appeared in the sky and a Monstrous Nightmare descended from the clouds, letting out a mighty roar. One dragon turned to two, two to four, four to eight, eight to sixteen, until the sky was teeming with the fire-breathing devils. The screams of damned souls could be heard as the dragons rained flame and fury onto the ships.

Finn looked towards the General who was already making his way to the nearest entrenchment to relay rescue orders to the men. He spoke to his brother, "Gunnar, tell the Chief what's going on. We don't want Stoick to think this is a Berserker attack."

"Right," his brother said before sprinting towards the town.

Finn looked back towards the Berserker vessels. Two more had been overrun by dragons, falling far behind their ally. One's sail dissipated as the flames ate the canvas and its oars hung dead off the side of the hull. The other still put up a futile resistance, soldier after soldier being flung from the deck. The sole survivor raced to reach the safety of Berk's beachhead and Finn sprang into action to ensure there would be someone to receive the besieged sailors. Gathering a small squad of warriors, Finn charged towards the coastline while bellowing a thunderous battle cry. The final ship hit the rocky sand, wood splintering as the barnacle-ridden keel dug into the ground.

"Stand fast, men!" Finn barked as they reached the crash site, "Here come the dragons, little demons up front, big ones in back." It was only seconds into the engagement before the beasts dispersed. The brief relief from fighting did not last as a familiar whine, once again, filled the sky. "Night Fury!" Finn yelled to his team, "Get down!" As fortune would have it, the Berkian soldiers obeyed his command and escaped the Fury's wrath unharmed. The last of the Berserkers were not so lucky as the remainder of their ship exploded from beneath them. Any who tarried on the deck were engulfed by the blue blazes and those who had disembarked were thrown from the site by lethal concussive forces.

Finn stumbled to return himself to his feet; he had escaped the explosion but was left with a ringing in his ears from the deafening blast. He looked around and saw the Berkian catapult entrenchments peppering the airborne attackers with boulders. Gathering his senses, the sound of tiny crying replaced the ringing and he ran towards it to investigate. After clearing away a section of the ship's hull, Finn came across a bloodied boy with three parallel streaks of blue warpaint marked diagonally across his left eye and horizontally along his bicep. An image of the Skrill adorned his armor. The Berserker boy was clutching a wailing child no older than Finn's own niece.

The Berserker looked up at the Berkian and painfully spoke with trembling lips, "I-I am Dagur, Chief of the B-Berserkers. O-Oswald the Agreeable is d-d-dead. The dragons have t-t-taken the island o-of Berserk. We are a-all who are left…" Dagur let out a wheezing cough and Finn held him in a seated position. "The g-gr-great Berserker tribe has fallen." He caressed the child's cheek before thrusting her into Finn's strong arms. "This is Heather. She is the l-last hope and heir of Berserk. Keep her safe." His viridian eyes widened and peered into Finn's azure. "Promise me!"

Without a hint of hesitation, Finn put a hand on Dagur's shoulder and spoke with comfort lacing his words, "I promise." The boy drew a final breath and closed both eyes as his body went limp. "In Valhalla, may you finally rest."

Finn started jogging to the Great Hall, needing to find shelter for the baby amidst the raid. Gazing at the child he now held, Finn rocked her in his warm embrace to soothe her crying. Her minute viridian eyes matched those of the passed boy and contrasted elegantly with her raven hair. He had always wanted a child but grave circumstances had left him an early widow and without a descendant of his own. He promised to look after the tiny thing and had every intention of keeping his word. Reaching the center of the village, Finn saw the doors of the Great Hall straight ahead, only a few meters away. Smoke from burning homes had filled his lungs and a gash on his leg bled to no end from the Night Fury's previous attack.

A guard at the Hall's entrance took note of him sprinting towards the structure. Moving to open the doors, the soldier suddenly stopped, looking into the sky above Finn's head. "Finn, look out! Dragon!" The man called out to him, raising his crossbow.

Finn took no chances, diving to the ground and sheltering the baby with his own body. Expecting to meet a fiery demise at any moment, he took solace that the mewling child would be safe under him. "Shh-shh," he cooed to her, "Everything will be alright." He closed his eyes as the beat of heavy wings shook the air around him, stirring dust and dirt into the harsh breeze. To his surprise, the dragon lifted away, something else piquing its interest. Looking up at the massive predator, Finn watched it soar up the hillside, four separate wings hammering the wind to keep it aloft. This huge dragon had never shown itself on the Isle of Berk before this day, but Finn recognized its markings from the Book of Dragons, a Stormcutter. Coming to his feet, he watched a flame grow in the passing dragon's mouth but his view was barred as he moved past the heavy doors of the Great Hall.

» Stoick the Vast «

There is only one accurate description of Stoick the Vast, Chief of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe. Simply, the man was the Viking of Vikings. A head taller than the next biggest Berkian, and thrice as strong. His stubbornness was greater than that of all his people…combined. They say that when he was a baby, he popped a dragon's head clean off of its shoulders (Do I believe it? Yes, I do.).

Stoick watched the Stormcutter race his way up the slope and towards his position. "Ah! Do you want some of this this beast?" He bellowed with his rough Nordic accent. "Ha-ha-ha, come and get it!" His hatchet was raised at the ready, the auburn tresses of his beard danced in the breeze, and his steely emerald eyes were unwavering despite the great size of his aggressor. The dragon soared higher into the sky, ignoring Stoick's challenge and letting a blast loose from its jaws. The Chief watched the attack impact the side of his own home, leaving a charred hole as the wood vaporized. Stoick's fiery demeanor melted away as his eyes grew wide and he whispered, "Hiccup…no…"

His legs had never carried him faster as he sprinted up to the top of the hill, watching the Stormcutter tear through the remainder of the wall and enter his son's nursery. Not even bothering to open the door, the massive Viking rammed through, ripping it from the metal hinges. It was when he was halfway up the stairs did the crying start, as his son, his little hiccup, wailed into the night. The door at the top was already open when he arrived. Upon entering he hesitated for only a second as he saw his boy weeping in the crib with a bleeding cut on his chin. There was stuffed blue dragon toy resting on the ground. Snapping back into the moment, he caught sight the dragon cornering his wife, a useless sword drooping in her hands.

"Ah," he grunted, hurling his axe into the tiny separation between his beloved and the beast with the hope to give the woman space to escape. "Valka, run!" The enraged dragon whipped its head towards Stoick and spewed a river of fire.

"No, don't!" he heard his wife plead to the Stormcutter as she grasped at his wing.

Stoick saw the monster turn back towards Valka. "Hold on," he shouted. He leaped over the flames, snatching up his son and recovering his weapon, but, alas, it was too late.

"No! Stoick!" she screamed as the dragon caught her shoulders.

"Valka!" He could only watch in horror as the woman he loved and the mother of his child was taken from his very home.

"Stoick!"

"Valka…"